


The Clairvoyant

by not_here_leave_a_message



Category: The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
Genre: Clairvoyance, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I guess? Like there's no specific hurt but there's definitely comfort., Psychic, Psychic Abilities, Trish is smarter than the average rabbit basically., Wives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 15:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21376276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_here_leave_a_message/pseuds/not_here_leave_a_message
Summary: Although the film itself was fictional...some points were made.  Good points. Good points that actually explained a lot more about her wife than any of the various diagnoses she had come up with through the years.  Perhaps, for once, reality was truly stranger than fiction...Or, Trish is smarter than the average rabbit, and, with a little bit of help from an unlikely source, realizes maybe her wife is maybe touch sensitive.  Except that's like totally impossible.  Right?
Relationships: Theodora "Theo" Crain/Trish Park
Comments: 25
Kudos: 231





	The Clairvoyant

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! I've had this story kicking around in my fic folder for...well, I guess years at this point? For the longest time I couldn't finish it and I finally did, and then it sat a little while longer, whoops! But I'm publishing it now, hopefully people are still lurking in the fandom to appreciate it. 
> 
> While it's possible in canon that Theo would tell Trish, eventually, about being sensitive...honestly it's never really clear if even her siblings believe her to be so, and all of them experience to some degree this same sensitivity, though Theo seems to be the most affected. I digress, anyway: to me it seemed like even Shirley may have at most humored her about her ability, but she largely seemed to not believe Theo about it. So basically in my head canon, Theo doesn't tell anyone because if that's how her own siblings react, well then like...why the hell would she tell anyone? Including Trish. 
> 
> But Trish is smart, see? And maybe just open enough to the supernatural that I think she could figure it out...
> 
> Enjoy!

Trish had a soft spot for black and white films. Old films in general, but she especially loved black and white. And it wasn’t that her wife didn’t like them. But she didn’t love them, either. Theo was very much the emo, film-noir lover: she didn’t have a whole lot of respect for the comedies. So Trish took advantage of the rare absence of her missus to catch up on the huge selection that had been accumulated to her Netflix queue, just waiting for a moment, a week, where Theo was out at a conference and Trish had the TV all to herself. 

She settled down into her couch with take-out from her favorite place, and got herself comfortable for a wonderful night. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t love having Theo around. She knew by the end of the week she’d be going insane with loneliness. But…well. A night off never hurt anyone, and she loved her wife, truly, but Theo’s quiet snorts or eye rolls that Trish could just _feel_ without ever having to see could sometimes really detract from the film over all. 

No, they each had their things that they did separately from each other, and black and white comedies that were simultaneously terrible and amazing, was Trish’s thing. 

She started the movie, The Clairvoyant. She knew it was going to be ridiculous from the image alone: a man with a ridiculously tall Abe Lincoln hat and a ridiculously overdone handlebar mustache. Trish couldn’t wait. 

The film didn’t disappoint, with the man getting into all kinds of shenanigans as he tried to convince people that he was a psychic (plot twist, his assistant was actually the one with the powers). It was hilarious, though, as he ran around truly believing himself to be the clairvoyant because his assistant was able to feed him the answers through her touch, and he just became convinced that the voice in his head was just a split personality. 

It was made all the more hilarious because…and god, this was going to sound bad, but honestly? This reminded her so much of Theo. The man was acting like he could read anything and anyone and was, in true male fashion, being very dramatic about it. He refused to touch anyone except his assistant, lest he get more voices in his head that he’d deduced, somehow had to do with his proximity to them. He spoke with people but only across the table (his assistant serving as the connection). And though his evasion tactics were outlandish and purposefully exaggerated for comedic effect, honestly she recognized some of the dodges, which just made the film all the more hilarious. 

God it really was just Theo with a terrible mustache. And minus the assistant, of course. Unless Trish was considered the assistant, but she lacked the necessary clairvoyant powers, she mused to herself. 

Perhaps it was Theo that had them? 

The thought made her chuckle to herself as she grabbed her glass of wine and took a sip. 

\---

It should have probably ended there, at that musing. It probably should have ended when the film ended, the man eventually realizing he wasn’t clairvoyant at all, and his assistant managing to convince him it’d all been a dream! Clairvoyance didn’t exist, silly! 

She’d actually laughed to herself once more for her own thoughts on her wife’s possible clairvoyance, because yeah, clairvoyance didn’t exist. 

Or did it? (The wink from the assistant at the end of the film had helped to nail that point home).

It maybe was kind of stupid, but the thought popped into her head again the next day as she was preparing lunch for herself. She was absentmindedly cutting tomatoes when she thought of the scene where the man comically tripped over himself, backwards, and ended up knocking over tons of props behind him, all to avoid the handshake of a client. Even though he hadn’t been psychic (and obviously Theo wasn’t either because that would be literally preposterous), he hadn’t known that and had done his best to not get too close to people, terrified of learning too much about them or their futures. 

And god, honestly? She’d seen Theo do the same thing on multiple occasions. Minus the props, of course. And the tripping over herself. And the flailing arms as she tried to get away. 

But Theo had been known, especially when she and Trish had first started getting serious, going places together, meeting family and colleagues and things like that…Theo’d been known to avoid a handshake. Especially if she wasn’t wearing gloves. 

It’d been more obvious when they first tentatively started seeing each other. Theo had been a tough nut to crack, but Trish had always been a bit of a glutton for punishment, honestly. She’d learned the hard way how to value herself above constant microagressions, against outright racism or homophobia, against the terrible social landscape in which women were raised to always think lesser of themselves. She’d learned through experience how to build a thick skin, but keep an open heart, and so maybe that was why she ended up leaving her number for Theo, despite Theo’s pretty pointed hints (more like clue-by-fours) that she didn’t want anything more from Trish other than what she’d already gotten. 

It certainly hadn’t been because she thought Theo was going to call her. But she also figured out, pretty quickly, that Theo was a closed-off person. Even her bedroom had been pretty cold and Spartan. Theo didn’t like attachments, that much had been pretty clear from her entire demeanor that first night. And she’d clearly gotten very good at slicing any new ones out of her life. Again, all pretty obvious. 

But Trish had left her number anyway, and had kicked herself all the way home for having done so because she deserved more than some closed off doctor who very clearly wasn’t interested in her, in any emotional capacity. Trish deserved someone who would be emotionally there for her, unlike the last few of her relationships…

And then she’d sighed to herself because clearly, she had a type. 

Something had been different about Theo, though, and Trish couldn’t put her finger on why, exactly. 

Theo did call her, though. Against all odds and expectations, Theo called her. 

So they’d started going out, tentatively at first. Just small coffee dates or Netflix and chill nights. Sometimes if they were out for coffee close to the university, some of Trish’s friends would walk in and introductions would be made. And how Theo reacted to these interactions had always varied significantly depending on if she was wearing her gloves. With them, she was short but at least polite, going in for a handshake without issue. Without them? 

Well, that was an entirely different story. She would keep her arms folded tight. She wouldn’t even rest her elbows on the table, instead opting to slouch in her chair so that she ended up always looking like some sulky teenager who was upset at her parents for making her do something outside the house.

If it bothered Trish’s friends, they hid it well. Though on more than one occasion, some had pulled her aside to ask if her girlfriend (“Um I wouldn’t say she’s my girlfriend…” was always said awkwardly and promptly ignored by whichever friend had pulled her aside) was okay or if they had done something unknowingly to offend her. 

The thing that had always struck Trish as a little odd though, was that Theo did that with people she already knew, too. Even her family. She always had her arms crossed or her gloves on and a sour look on her face. 

It didn’t take a genius to know that Theo was touch-starved. Though admittedly, Trish hadn’t even realized it at first, as Theo had no qualms about touching her during sex. And the gloves did sort of keep in line with her original story about being a germaphobe. However, there were a lot of inconsistencies and really, touch-starvation ended up being the only thing that explained almost all of her behavior. Touch starvation could lead to a whole host of emotional issues, especially emotional connectivity issues. That had been what really tipped Trish off to that diagnosis: Theo’s emotional issues. 

It was such an odd juxtaposition, though. Theo didn’t seem to mind sex in the slightest: that was a gloves-off type of deal. She’d been like that their first time, and all of their subsequent times. Yet at her sister’s funeral…gloves. 

It didn’t take three degrees in sociology to know that Theo’s gloves were a physical representation of her walls, and that not having them on made her feel vulnerable. Sex was necessary vulnerability, but she never seemed to have an issue with it. Not like she did with a handshake. 

And that was how she ended up musing, for the second time, that maybe Theo could be a little psychic, after all. She didn’t mind sex because it was overwhelmed with pleasure, or longing, or desire. But any other time, she’d be overwhelmed by the feelings of another, just like The Clairvoyant thought he would be if he got too close.

The idea had her shaking her head and chuckling to herself as she finished putting together her BLT. Because that was absolutely preposterous.

Right?

\---

She found her thoughts returning to her wife mid-week. Which wasn’t necessarily unusual, she hadn’t properly seen Theo in three days and she was starting to get a little stir-crazy. She had a week off of classes, work, and her research fellowship, so it was truly perhaps the worst week to not have her wife around to entertain her. She’d figured she’d take advantage of the time to read up on their notes and proposals for further grant funding for her study at BU, an ambitious investigation on gendered socialization and gendered performance in kindergarten-aged children across multiple cultures and classes. 

Her thoughts inevitably turned to Theo because children were her specialty. The way her eyes lit up when they got into discussions about child psychology always made Trish melt a little inside. Theo was a passionate person, and Trish had maybe always known that about her (even if it wasn’t a conscious realization.) Despite her walls (or perhaps because of them, as the case were), Trish knew that Theo was full of love. In fact, it seemed to be Theo’s biggest problem: all that love, with nowhere to go. She didn’t know what to do with it, and so she held it in until it festered. Rotted. And like a limb in much the same state, it had poisoned the rest of her. 

It was a pretty common symptom of touch starvation, actually. Emotional issues were par for the course. And it was an initial diagnosis, gleaned at a glance, but that had stood the test of time. One that Trish very much still stuck by, not that anyone asked. 

Getting Theo to open up…to cut off that traitorous and gangrenous limb, if she could be so gross, had been a lot like pulling teeth…in the 1800’s. No anesthesia, just a shot of whiskey and pain. Lots and lots of pain. 

Which was why Trish hadn’t pushed all that much. She made sure she was there for Theo as she took the steps to tunnel her way through her walls. To meet Trish half-way. To reach out on her own terms. To basically learn where, and how, to love in a healthy, emotive way. 

It wasn’t easy. It had initially been a lot (_a lot_) of push and pull. Theo would be warm and loving one moment, and then cold and distant the next. There was rarely any explanation as to why these mood swings came and went, and to a certain extent, Trish understood it. Theo was forcing herself to be more open. Especially after her sister’s funeral. 

In fact, she could peg that as the exact moment in which Theo started to truly show remorse for how she’d been. Something changed after that day…after that night. Theo never talked about it, so Trish didn’t know what the hell had happened. Whatever it was, it did have Theo opening up. Coming to Trish with a look of pure determination and an open and refreshing honesty. About how she actually really appreciated Trish for always being there. How she was damaged. Traumatized. How admitting that scared her, how she was still learning how to deal with it. 

But she wanted to see where they could go. What they could be. 

If Trish would have her. 

Trish didn’t say no. She wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and in the end, the why or how of it didn’t matter: what mattered was that it stuck.

And it had. 

Part of the perks of having a psychologist for a partner meant that Theo could identify her problematic behaviors, even if she was just human in the ways she addressed them (ignoring them, procrastinating on fixing them, closing herself off, lashing out, etc.) She could recognize and diagnose her emotional needs, though she often misjudged or feigned ignorance as to the proper treatment.

That all wasn’t important, though. Theo was dealing with a lot of emotional trauma, and it meant that things got harder before they got better. 

It was during that tumultuous time, those agonizing first few months when people got to know each other better, to start to see the habits of their partners, to start to see the uglier aspects (though admittedly they’d jumped the shark on that step): when partners were just starting to properly find their footing. It was during that time that Trish had started to realize just how damaged…how beautiful, Theo was. 

And it was all because of those damn gloves. 

As cliché as it probably was, Theo’s gloves were very much her security blanket and crutch, a physical expression of her loneliness and isolation. And in her concerted effort to open up, Trish did notice when she started using them less, little by little. It started small, after the funeral and whatever the hell had happened after. 

But it came with the expected side effects: moodiness, irritability, stages of regression and progression. It was…difficult, at times, but Theo had always been pretty difficult, so Trish did what she could: simply tried to be there for Theo as she worked, however slowly, through her problems. 

The peculiar thing about it was just how volatile Theo could be, without her gloves on. Trish had become, quickly, oddly in tune with how Theo’s moods could swing on days she opted to not wear her gloves. While Trish thought she understood their importance, there were some days where Theo actively acted like they were truly the barrier between life and death, and there were even days where Theo refused to take them off at all. This was especially true if they ended up at a party of some sort, be it family or faculty, birthday or holiday, no matter how often Theo could be seen with her gloves off in private, with Trish, with her family…she almost always wore them in public.

Not only that, but she could get particularly…needy, at events with a lot of people. 

Not that Trish was complaining! It felt nice to be so needed by her otherwise stoic girlfriend. She’d noticed particular patterns from Theo the more she was with her at public events like that. Little things, things that had her exasperated at times, but usually subtle things, like huddling closer to Trish, avoiding handshakes (which Trish had more or less gotten used to, at that point), being fidgety, sitting down somewhere and then promptly standing up and switching furniture…somewhat normal anti-social behaviors that were honestly pretty consistent with touch-starvation and emotional trauma. 

But, well…some of the behaviors were easier to deal with than others. Especially those first few months, with Theo gradually opening up more and more, and with them getting to know each other better and better…well, they’d ended up attending a lot of functions together. Nights out with colleagues or friends, benefits for Theo’s brother’s newest book or something of Luke’s as he tried to find his footing during his recovery. Things from Trish’s family as well, from reunions to Vietnamese traditions or holidays, to family get-togethers. 

It was…admittedly a lot of socialization, that took Theo a while to get used to. 

On more than one occasion, Theo would ask in a raspy voice to leave after a few hours, which was pretty normal and truly, Trish knew to respect when Theo was done being emotionally available to people. But sometimes, she would do it almost immediately after arriving. The first few times that happened, Trish wasn’t exactly happy. But she knew that Theo was recovering from years of trauma and emotional isolation, and that there would always be good days and bad days. She knew that, but it was a little aggravating. Still, she’d sigh and agree to leave, apologetically saying goodbye as Theo held her hand in a vice-grip. 

In almost every instance that a quick exit like that happened, it would come out on the news later about one of the attendees being arrested for charges of sexual assault, battery, abuse, burglary or even once: murder. 

Trish had never put much thought into it, but the coincidence gave her pause. She looked up from the apple she’d been cutting, a snack to go with the salad she was preparing. In fact…there had been a lot of things that really made a lot of sense, if she thought of it from a “wow my girlfriend is clairvoyant” angle. Watching Theo shake someone’s hand, gloves off, and watching her expression fall or harden, darken or brighten. Sometimes her jaw would clench. In really rare occasions, the gloves would come back on. And on really bad days, they wouldn’t come off, even to hold Trish’s hand. Theo would be in a sour mood for the rest of the day and Trish always felt a little helpless, unsure what had caused the mood and unsure how to fix it. 

Sometimes, the odd things would just be Theo sitting down somewhere and then promptly standing as though the furniture had physically burned her. Sometimes it was Theo muttering about someone having issues that “I’d hate to have to deal with” (this was usually said under her breath, and said to herself, but Trish sometimes heard). Things that just seemed odd but Trish had simply dismissed because Theo had, honestly, always been a bit judgmental. It was part of her walls, built to keep everyone out. 

Trish put down the apple, now truly lost in thought. The idea was absolutely ridiculous but like…it kind of made sense?

One instance in particular had always stood out to her, and that was really the first time that Theo had been even somewhat publicly affectionate. No, not somewhat…overtly publicly affectionate. Not in necessarily a good way, either. Though not necessarily a bad one? 

It was a faculty Christmas party, one where Theo actually knew everyone and the first party where she had elected to not wear her gloves, and in fact, to not even bring them. She had asked Trish to come because…well, they’d been dating for several months at that point and really, things had been going very well. Theo’d gone almost a month with the gloves nearly always off, and had seemed in pretty good spirits (for Theo) upon their arrival to their host’s home.

It was a nice older couple who worked with Theo on a few childhood trauma cases and clearly thought very highly of her, though even with them Theo seemed nothing more than begrudgingly polite. It had sort of become their dynamic (“become” being a bit of a stretch as it had sort of always been their dynamic) that Trish was the open and bubbly one and Theo was the broody and drink-y one who hung back and let Trish speak for the both of them unless she felt particularly strongly about the subject, or particularly comfortable with the people. 

Trish understood it as a symptom of her social anxiety and emotional repression from childhood, and at that point was so used to their dynamic being what it was that she didn’t think much of it when Theo skulked off to get some more alcohol and left Trish to rub elbows on her own, with colleagues who weren’t hers, until her girlfriend had enough isolation time to face people again, even if “face” them really was all she did. 

That night had been different, though. Theo had disappeared, yes, and Trish had been sure to keep tabs on her, knowing that the lack of gloves could quickly become a problem. She found Theo speaking with a small group of people near a fire place, Theo’s face guarded but her posture not too alarming. She seemed like she was okay, if a little on guard, but Trish smiled to herself, proud of her girlfriend for branching out and trying out the whole “being social” thing. She’d made a mental note to talk with Theo about it later, and had decided to leave her for the moment. She knew at that point in their relationship that if Theo needed her, she’d come find her. They’d been to enough events together that Trish knew that Theo would take care of herself, and no matter how desperately Trish might want to be there for her, she knew she could only help when Theo was open to it. So she just made sure that Theo knew she was there if she was needed. 

Theo’d been engrossed in the conversation, both of her bare hands clutching her glass of whiskey, so Trish just left her to it. She’d wandered over to the food table to grab a quick snack, had a lovely chat about travel with someone who’s name she didn’t catch, and then just hung around until a sudden movement to her right had her turning and facing a positively exhausted-looking Theo, who in an extremely unusual public display of affection, had collapsed into Trish’s arms, wrapped her own around Trish’s waist and slid her hands under Trish’s shirt. 

Her fingers were surprisingly warm, her palms chilly, probably from her drink.

Trish had initially been very alarmed, especially as Theo buried her nose into the crook of Trish’s neck and asked into her collarbone if they could go home, please. 

One, Theo never said please. Theo demanded or Theo was passive-aggressive, though she had been getting better over the months about communicating her needs and wants in a healthier way. And two, Theo only ever reacted so strongly to things when something was very, very wrong, and though Trish did consider she might just be tired, her mind jumped over the reasonable things to “oh god what happened?”

To her utter surprise, Theo had huffed out a puff of air, in something akin to a laugh, and whispered, “Nothin’s wrong, jus’ too many people. Your heart’s going like a zillion miles an hour.”

To her complete and utter surprise, when Trish nodded her assent that they could leave (it was Theo’s party, after all??), Theo detached herself from Trish’s neck, but kept one hand purposefully and proactively under her shirt, pleasantly stroking small circles as they walked out together. 

“Thank you,” she’d whispered in her ear, on their walk to the car, and kissed her gently. 

The memory filled her with warmth, really. That had really been a…a turning point, for her wife. They hadn’t been at the party long, but they had been there for a while, and with Theo having her gloves off the entire time. 

At the time, she’d been super-proud. 

She still was, but concern now etched her features as she furrowed her brow. 

And, okay, yes, it was preposterous, that her wife, girlfriend at the time, was like…some kind of psychic who could read people by touch, right? Utterly preposterous. 

But also…it kind of explained the gloves? Like…it explained them…really well. It kind of explained all of the weird shit that Theo did, really…

It also kind of explained…if she was feeling overwhelmed, and touch was how she could read people…

Trish could almost feel the smoke coming out of her ears, the more she thought on it. She had her brow furrowed so hard that she could feel that she was going to give herself a tension headache, and she physically forced herself to relax, shaking her head to dismiss the fogginess that had started to gather. 

Because it was absolutely ridiculous that her wife could read people by touching them, and that was that. 

…even if it kind of made sense. 

\---

From that realization on, Trish couldn’t get the damn idea out of her head. Could it be possible? Could Theo actually be clairvoyant? 

It seemed utterly ridiculous but the thought persisted in her mind, dots that she had never thought to connect before suddenly connecting, weird instances suddenly making much more sense. 

It was…kind of absurd? But it made a lot of sense. Her wife, Theodora Crain, was touch-psychic. 

Trish had always been on the fence when it came to things like super-human powers, including clairvoyance, psychics, mediums, or even profits. Sociologically, they were an absolutely fascinating glimpse into how humans processed the world beyond that which they knew. Religion had long been used as a science to explain human observation, and religious phenomenon had long been used to explain ailments or conditions. It was a way to make sense of things that didn’t make sense. 

Trish herself had always been a bit of a believer in ghosts, and was always performing a balancing act of knowing that scientifically, as far as they were aware, humans only had one life. But spiritually, she felt too big to only live a handful of decades and then unexist. It didn’t seem possible, and so she was left with the paradox of believing in more, and knowing that there possibly couldn’t be. It said a lot about her own culture, her family’s beliefs, her age group, her social class and standing that she could be educated to know all of this about herself in the first place…fascinating stuff, truly. 

But she had always harbored beliefs in things beyond humanity. In supernatural forces, in luck, in fate. She was a romantic, sue her. She’d heard of “sensitive” people, of course. It wasn’t just people, either. Animals were sensitive to the supernatural. So were children. Mediums could be sensitive to auras or touch. 

And it was ridiculous and wrong and preposterous, that she got all of this from a ridiculous black and white comedy movie from the thirties and yet, like a runaway train going downhill, the thought process was picking up traction and speed at a positively alarming rate. 

Could Theo be touch-sensitive, not in the “touch starved” way but in the “wow I know everything about you now” way? Could she read auras? Talk to ghosts? Could she see ghosts?? Could the rest of her family? After all, Steve had been pretty spooked and some weird things had gone down at that funeral. Trish had overhead talks of apparitions on more than one occasion while trying to find something to do with herself at the funeral home, during Nell’s wake. Theo had been on a razor’s edge the whole time, either intoxicated or angry or both, that wounded love caged and rotting, her emotions on loop, with nowhere to go. 

Was it possible that Nell had been there? Theo had been beside herself after Nell had died, and Trish had sort of felt like an asshole for asking about Theo’s day, when Theo had clearly had a shit day. She’d opened up but in a detached way, going off about Nell and about some girl she was treating, and how she’d touched her hand and hadn’t even seen anything and…

Shit it all made sense, and Trish, for her part, nearly fell out of her chair. 

Maybe Theo couldn’t talk to ghosts or whatever, but like…fuck, could she read people with just a simple touch?? 

Theo had always said odd things, like that thing about touching her patient and not seeing anything, and Trish had never put much thought into it, but in that moment, Trish was forced to reconsider. 

It…it actually made a lot of sense? In overwhelming circumstances, Theo always searched her out. In social places where she had to shake a lot of hands and hadn’t brought her gloves, Theo would attach herself to Trish. She would always have her hands on her in some way, shape or form. Holding hands. Touching her shoulder. Sliding her arm under Trish’s shirt. Fingers playing with her hair or tracing patterns in her skin. It almost seemed second nature, now that they were married. 

And, again, it had been easy enough to miss because that was what married people did, right? Trish was Theo’s safe space in a world that Theo was still learning how to interact with, after shutting herself out of it for so long. So it made sense that she’d attach herself to Trish’s side. But now, thinking about it…it was always with a touch. Standing next to her didn’t suffice. It had to be a touch. 

It always had to be a touch. On bad days, Theo would embrace Trish and Trish could always feel the tension leaving her, bit by bit, until she’d whisper a quiet “Thank you,” in Trish’s ear and kiss her. Despite Trish not having said nor done anything. 

And Trish had always been a sort of relentlessly positive person. She could explain away the weird things Theo said or did with a wave a simple “It’s a bad/good day” and call it even. But now…what if Theo touched her like that, on bad days, because she needed a bit of Trish’s warmth? 

The oddest thing about all of this was that it wasn’t necessarily a stretch. Humans were reliant on touch and it released a lot of feel-good chemicals. It was good to feel another living being, and to know their warmth through their eyes and their smile and their embraces. But if what was suddenly hitting Trish was even remotely true, then touch meant all the more to her wife. 

Maybe it was ridiculous. Maybe she was being ridiculous, but once the thought had occurred to her, everything clicked into place. How Theo always seemed to know what Trish was feeling. How Theo’s mood could be so quickly soured in certain people’s company. How quickly Theo could build up her walls again and how quickly she could take them down with one touch from her concerned wife. Why Theo still kept a pair of gloves even though she’d symbolically threw them away so long ago. 

It was ridiculous, but it fit. 

And this time, she couldn’t waive it away because the fiction actually made more sense the reality. 

Her wife…was actually clairvoyant.

\---

Or was she? 

Her week of solitude was coming to an end and her mind was absolutely frayed. Because like, there was no way, right? There was no way. 

But there was. In fact, there had to be. Years and years of being together, and now, looking back on all of the memories…it all made so much sense. 

It was ridiculous, but it fit. 

And god if that didn’t just about tear her apart. Theo’d never said anything about it. And Trish didn’t doubt: she’d probably not said anything to anyone. That’s just how Theo was. And it was just one more thing that she’d bear in silence, rather than face the fear of rejection, of being called crazy, of being entirely discredited in her practice or shunned as insane by her wife. 

Trish felt herself tear up, but quickly wiped them away. She…she could understand why Theo hadn’t told her. But…if what she was thinking was true (and again, maybe she was just being crazy??) she…

She could just ask, but then she’d sort of be the crazy one, wouldn’t she? And how exactly did one broach that subject? “Honey, I know this sounds crazy but can you sense things about people when you touch them?” 

She almost laughed at how ridiculous that sounded.

Trish shook her head to herself. She didn’t know what to believe, and at any rate, it didn’t matter at present. She could certainly try to broach the subject…maybe just bring up the movie and casually mention how, oh yes _the main character acts almost exactly like you_. The thing was, though…Theo didn’t like talking about ghosts and supernatural things. She especially didn’t like talking about philosophy pertaining to after-death possibilities. And Trish understood that, truly: losing a sister couldn’t have made it easy. And really…living in a funeral home, and if she did have that ability to see through touch…maybe she already knew. 

The thought wasn’t exactly a welcome one, and so with a sour look on her face, Trish finally shut the book she’d opened in a futile attempt to draw her thoughts away from the ridiculous-but-probably-true notion that her wife was, in fact, on some level…psychic. 

\---

Trish woke up the last day of having the house to herself, feeling perplexed. She’d sort of accepted that even though it was crazy, her wife was definitely probably able to know things about people by touch because god it just…it just explained too much. It explained literally everything, and Trish went about her day feeling her brow furrow more and more as more questions bubbled to the surface. 

Because well…it made sense but it also meant…it implied a lot, basically. How much could Theo infer about someone after touching them? Was it everything? Vague ideas? Futures? Pasts? Desires? Feelings? Thoughts? 

She was so distracted that she burned her eggs she made for lunch, reread the same paragraph no less than five times, ended up putting everything away and just cleaning the house, for no other reason than for having something to do while her mind wandered. 

By the time she received the text from Theo that she’d landed at the airport and would take a taxi home, Trish only just realized how late it was, how exhausted she was, and how she still hadn’t really come up with a proper list of questions to ask Theo. In fact she felt even more frayed than before, but she rubbed her eyes as she stared at the text. She’d originally planned on going to get Theo from the airport, but she also knew Theo, and that sometimes she needed her space. Trish was sort of relieved, now, that Theo had elected to take a cab. She definitely would have never made it in time…

She made her way up to their room, running a hand through her hair and stepping into the shower to try to collect herself. 

It didn’t really work, but she did feel refreshed, at least. And well. She trusted Theo. She really did. She had questions and she wanted answers, because if it turned out that Theo knew…everything, from just one touch, then they had a lot to talk about. 

She crawled into bed, pulling her most recent book she’d started out of her nightstand drawer, and read until she heard the door open downstairs and the thud of Theo dropping her stuff at the door. Trish felt her heart leap into her throat, and she tried to swallow it down, forcing her gaze to remain on the open book that she hadn’t read one bit of, even as she heard footsteps and eventually saw her wife’s silhouette from the corner of her eye. 

She steeled herself to try to pretend nothing was wrong, to try to broach the subject even though she absolutely no plan on just how to do that, even after mulling it over all day. 

Really, she should have known better. She lifted her gaze to a Theo frozen in the doorway, one foot half in the room, the other planted firmly out in the hallway, bare hands on the doorframe, one eyebrow raised, and eyes searching the room as though she could sense something wasn’t right.

Which well…she probably could. 

“Something’s wrong,” Theo said, tension visibly rippling her muscles. Even with the distance between them, Trish could see that. Trish felt her mouth open, but no sound came out, because really? Before Trish could even think of what to say, before Trish could even process the fact that Theo apparently didn’t even need to touch things to sense them. 

“What’s up? What’s wrong?” Theo asked, looking very serious and with slight alarm in her gaze as Trish just stared back at her. 

For a moment, all they did was stare, Theo’s tension building, and Trish suddenly wanted to laugh. What was wrong?? Nothing. Everything. Maybe? 

In fact, Trish did laugh, a pitiful little sound that was mostly just a release of air, a release of tension that she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. 

Theo didn’t find it as funny, tilting her head and giving Trish an incredulous look. 

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” Trish sighed, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair. “I promise, nothing’s wrong,” she started, drawing in a breath to begin. 

May as well start at the beginning…

Theo raised another skeptical eyebrow, “Something’s definitely wrong, babe. You’re sat up in bed reading and you don’t have your glasses on. Something’s on your mind, something’s wrong.”

And god, for a minute that completely took Trish aback, startled by the observation. She had forgotten her glasses, hadn’t she? For a minute, she wondered if really, her theory was entirely preposterous after all: maybe Theo was just keenly observant. 

Which, to be fair to her wife, she was. 

But no, keenly observant didn’t explain things the way that supernatural powers did, ironically. 

Trish shook her head, “No, nothing’s wrong, but just…it’s just. So there’s something I have to ask you. Tell you, really. And I just don’t really know how to broach the subject?”

Some of the tension left Theo’s shoulders, but her nostrils flared and she licked her lips, like some kind of lizard testing the air.

Finally, “Okay…”

“Okay.” Trish nodded, more to herself than to Theo, resolute. “Okay. This is going to sound totally crazy, okay? But just…hear me out.” 

Theo was clearly nonplussed but nonetheless managed an “Oh-kay…”

“Okay, so, like…look. So when you were gone I…I watched a movie.”

Theo’s other eyebrow raised, completely baffled. Trish waved a hand to keep her from interrupting: this was the most coherent her thoughts had been all day and she really just needed to let it out. 

“It’s one of those black and white ones that I know you don’t like because you’re too emo for your own good and only claim to like art noir which like, honestly babe,”

Not the point, Trish cringed internally before switching tactics,

“But anyway so I saw this film and it was really cute and super funny, right? And it…well it kind of got me thinking…” Trish took in a breath, then dived right in: “Okay so it’s stupid, but the movie was about a clairvoyant, right? But it turns out that he’s not actually clairvoyant, it’s his assistant, but that’s beside the point…” she ran her hand through her hair again and raised her gaze to meet her wife’s very confused eyes. “Sorry, I just really don’t know how to bring this up without you thinking I’m crazy, but I started thinking about you and all the weird shit that you do, and that you’ve always done, because I love you babe but you’ve always done some pretty weird shit. Especially if it came to touching people or being around people or like, people in general. And the gloves? And like all that exhaustion after parties or meetings, how bad you were at handshakes for ages. Or just physical contact in general.”

Realization started to dawn, Trish saw, on Theo’s face, tension creeping back into her frame, eyes narrowing slightly, equal parts suspicious and surprised, catching onto Trish’s drift. 

“So basically this is a long-winded way of saying that this may sound totally ridiculous but also I love you and I know you and it all fits, and basically I know that you’re clairvoyant.”

The words settled, heavy between them, but not as heavy as the silence that followed, Theo’s look entirely guarded, more guarded than she’d seen it in years. And while Theo maybe had a right to be like that…Trish had a right to be a little upset too, right? She knew she had to tread carefully, because despite years of progress, Theo was still adept at erecting barriers if she wanted to. 

“Like, you sense things about people through touch, don’t you?” she asked, and after a moment, Theo nodded, if only just. 

Trish let out a breath, relieved that at least they’d gotten that out and that she wasn’t entirely crazy.

“Okay. Cool. That’s…that’s good to know. I have like, a lot of questions. So many.”

Theo nodded again, some relief creeping into her posture but a guarded look still on her face. 

“But I love you. And honestly I’m tired. I’ve been thinking about this since Monday and I have to head into BU tomorrow to pitch my new survey questions to Benton and she’s gonna tear them apart, and all I really want right now is to have you next to me. We can talk about, like...all of this,” she waved her hands, “tomorrow. I just wanted to tell you that you don’t have to like, hide or pretend any more. I know you’re clairvoyant.”

And with that, Trish flipped open the covers, and patted the space next to her in bed. 

With that gesture, her wife seemed to melt, a grin splitting across her face as a huge, if shaky, sigh of relief left her. She shook her head, leaning against the doorframe, looking completely spent but so relieved at the same time. 

“God, clairvoyant,” she chuckled to herself, looking at Trish with such deep affection, with such deep love, that Trish sucked in a breath. “Is that what we’re really gonna call it?”

Trish pouted, folding her arms, “Um excuse you, it’s not like I had any help in figuring this out, I think I get to call it what I want. Plus, that was the name of the film,” she admitted sheepishly. 

Theo’s smile grew even more, and she walked into the room with a purpose, crawling onto the bed and kissing her wife. 

“Sensitive,” she said, finally, quietly, after pulling away, and Trish opened her eyes to the caring and slightly saddened gaze of her beautiful wife. “That’s what my mother called it,” she whispered, biting her lip. 

The sight tugged at Trish’s heart. Theo rarely spoke about her mother, and clearly there was a lot there. Trish always knew that there was, but she wasn’t one to push. But with this…it made sense. It made sense that if Theo and her mom had such a connection…if Theo’s mom knew about this, perhaps the one person who knew (did her siblings know?? Another question to add to the list…), and with all of the trauma surrounding her mother, well…

Their relationship was about to get a whole lot deeper, Trish could feel it, and it quelled the churning in her stomach from the various fears, doubts, and unanswered questions. Theo likely had her reasons for keeping it from Trish, and Trish knew that, which was why she wasn’t freaking out nearly as much as she probably should be…

“Thank you for telling me,” Trish said quietly, and Theo nodded, squeezing her eyes shut as a tear slid down. 

“Thanks for figuring me out,” she murmured back, going in for another kiss. 

They settled in for bed, exhaustion taking them both down pretty quickly. Theo wrapped her arms around Trish, holding her close, and with the warmth of her wife finally engulfing her in their bed, Trish drifted off to sleep.

\---

Theo could feel all of the thoughts. All of the fears. She could hear all of the questions: how long? How much? How many people knew? How much could she know about someone through touch? Only touch? Could she read thoughts? Futures? Could she know everything about someone in one graze? Did she know everything about Trish? Insecurities abound, but above all of the noise, all of the questions and doubts and fears (and there were many), and above the small but dark thoughts, wondering if Theo had invaded her privacy during arguments, could she control it, did she? 

She couldn’t, and god, she would if she could. There was a time where she would have killed to be able to control it. But with Trish, and well…with a lot, a lot of therapy, she’d learned not to control it, but how to compartmentalize it. The images she saw, the things she learned…she tried to focus on the good, where she could. 

Sometimes it was hard. There would always be good days and bad days, and Trish knew that. 

But above all of that noise, covering all of it like a thick, puffy blanket…was love. Love coated even the drops of hurt that Theo could sense swimming in her wife’s subconscious. 

Trish’s thoughts…Trish herself, was like a lava lamp and a kaleidoscope collided. Chilled chaos. Warm with some edges and full of vibrant colors. It was the best way she could describe the chaos that was another mind, and Trish’s was always so full of love. So full of life. So open to anything, so open that she had figured out Theo’s deepest secret after watching a fucking black and white film. 

And not even a good one, though it was admittedly funny, the scenes slipping in and out with her general thoughts. 

Sleep was a chaotic time, but the love her wife was always so ready to give always warmed even the coldest, darkest corners of Theo’s consciousness…and she had many of them. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t stolen from that warmth, time to time, during overwhelming situations. Trish was a source of light she had so come to crave. 

God, she loved her. Truly. Wholly. 

And now, Trish would be able to know all of her. Now, she would finally be able to be…Theo, whole and honest, with no real barrier between them. No more lies. No more fears. No more darkness. 

She couldn’t believe it, but she was…excited, for that. Excited to answer all of Trish’s questions, excited to finally let her wife all the way in. She wasn’t being judged, she wasn’t being deemed crazy or dismissed. Trish had figured it out all on her own, connected all of the dots and god…

Honestly, thank god for her wife’s terrible tastes in film. 

**Author's Note:**

> And that's that! I didn't really do a lot of editing in this so apologies for any obvious mistakes/any continuity mistakes. I don't usually write fics out of order but this one was kind of tricky because I had a first draft that just...wasn't what I wanted, but I still took a lot of elements from it so that might have translated in some repetition. Hopefully not too much to make it unbearable to read, though! 
> 
> Drop a line if you liked it, feedback always makes a writer happy (kudos too!) Hope you enjoyed! :)


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